


A Happy Little Accident

by profangirlintoomanyfandoms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 06:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21239528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profangirlintoomanyfandoms/pseuds/profangirlintoomanyfandoms
Summary: “We’re both at this restaurant to meet blind dates, but we meet each other thinking that the other person is the blind date we were supposed to be meeting” AU. – Prompt by @sastiel-daily on Tumblr.





	A Happy Little Accident

There were three things Castiel knew to be true. One: the little café on the corner of Mason served the best burgers and milkshakes in the world, with White Castle ranking a close second. Two: his brother Gabriel was a massive dickhead with a genuinely worrying addiction to sex. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, three: the man waiting for him outside the Kansas Coffeehaus down the street was quite possibly the hottest person he had ever laid eyes on.

_This was Balthazar_?

Honestly, he hadn’t expected this. Mainly because Gabriel had been the one to set up the date in the first place. “You really need to get back in the dating game, Cas,” he’d said. “Stop moping around and start sleeping around.” He’d given his older brother an excellent suggestion as to where he could shove _that _particular idea. He wasn’t ready – not after Meg. He wouldn’t be ready for a long time. But then Gabriel had gone ahead and set him up on a blind date with somebody from work.

“You’ll like him,” Gabriel had pleaded. “He works in physio, so I don’t see him much, but I swear he’s cool. Dude’s tall, blonde. Likes a good laugh, like me.” And quite honestly, the ‘like me’ part was enough to put Castiel off any idea of this leading somewhere. But now? Looking down the street at that fucking _Adonis_…maybe his brother knew what he was doing after all. He stared at the…_specimen_. Even from here, he could see he was _hot_. Male model, otherworldly hot. Balthazar was, as promised, blonde and tall. He also happened to look like a fucking _Abercrombie & Fitch model _– but without any of the beach vibes. Or the shirtless-ness. He was wearing at least three layers of clothing but even the obscene amount of denim and plaid he had on did not hide the fact that he was _built_. Balthazar looked like the type of guy to roar down the highway on a motorcycle at 3 am…but unfairly hotter. Cas imagined biker guys to be…like, fifty and bearded and perverts. Not Greek sculptures in jeans and boots.

Cas took a deep breath. _Okay, be cool. Alright maybe that’s hoping for too much. Just aim for…you know, normal. _He walked up to Mister Male Model – Balthazar. He looked up from his phone. Up close, Cas could see how green his eyes were – jade green. And his hair wasn’t blonde, not really; it was more light brown, and even in this weather, with the wind and the drizzle that had just started coming down, it was still a perfect quiff. Somehow, Cas knew instinctively that this guy didn’t use product. His hair just organically defied gravity and stuck up like that. _Fuck him. _Shit, his lips were…really, really full. Surely nobody had lips _that _full.

_Okay tone down the gay_.

“Um, hi?” He managed to choke out. “Are you…uh, you’re here for a date?”

Balthazar chuckled and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Yeah. Hey to you too. I’m Dean.” He hesitated for a bit, before holding his hand out. Cas shook it.

_Huh. Maybe his last name was Balthazar or something._

“Hi Dean. I’m Castiel.”

Balthazar – _Dean _– grinned, showing off a set of blindingly white teeth. “Hi Castiel.” He drawled out the syllables, like he was trying the word on for size. He waved at the coffee house behind him. “Want to grab a seat? Not that I’m complaining or anything, but I’m freezing my ass off out here, and I could really use a black coffee right about now.”

Cas laughed, tried to make it not sound as breathless as he felt. “Sorry. Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Dean grinned again – if he was going to do this all the time, Cas was _sure _he wasn’t going to make it through the night – and led the way inside.

They stepped into the coffeehouse together, and immediately stopped short. The place was a cosy, dimly lit room that looked…there was no other way to describe for it – like every Pinterest date picture had thrown up in this one place. He didn’t think he’d seen this many mason jar candles or fairy lights in his life. He felt like he’d wandered into an Instagram hashtag or something. Cas wondered if it was too late to tell his date he hated shit like this. _It’s cute but…we’re not in 2013. And I really don’t like Ellie Goulding, and her songs seem to be the only thing on the playlist here_.

Speaking of. Dean was possibly having a stroke. He didn’t seem to be moving. Or breathing. He was rooted to the spot, staring at his surroundings. Before Cas could get seriously worried, he blinked back to life. “Fucking Sammy,” he muttered under his breath.

“Sorry?”

Dean sighed. “My brother – Sammy – he recommended this place. I’ve never been, but he said it was good for a first date. Fucking – he knows I _hate _shit like this, the little _bitch_…Sorry man,” he laughed embarrassedly, “this isn’t really my scene.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m more of a bar or a diner-type guy.” Dean caught his eye. “I mean, unless you like this,” he backtracked quickly. “In which case, sure, we can stay. I mean, it’s really not a big deal, candles are cool –,”

“Dean.” Cas cut in.

He looked up. _Shit his eyelashes were really long_. “Yeah?”

“Ellen’s is doing a 30% off on all burgers tonight.”

Dean paused, seeming not to believe his ears. Then he grinned. A full-on, Christmas-has-come-early grin. And before Cas knew it, he was leaning in close, so close he could smell him. He smelled of pine and motor oil and leather and _fuck_, Cas was so fucking gay.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he whispered. And he grabbed his hand and ran.

* * *

“AC/DC or Queen?”

Cas snorted. Which was a semi-bad idea, because his mouth was currently stuffed full of fries, and half-chewed mash nearly came out his nose. Dean sniggered. He flipped him the bird without looking up. “Queen,” he said, coughing a bit. “No contest.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because AC/DC gave us ‘Highway to Hell’.”

“AC/DC couldn’t even keep the band together.”

Dean gave out a fake gasp. He dropped his burger onto his plate, clutched at his heart. “You did _not _just say that. Castiel, _no_.”

Cas swallowed the impulse to laugh at his antics. Seriously, the dude was _funny_, funnier than he was expecting him to be. He’d been laughing all night long, from the walk to Ellen’s, and all through dinner. Somebody this good-looking should _not _be allowed to be this funny. It defied the laws of nature. _Ye who art hot as fuck shalt not hath a hilarious impression of Keith Richards. And thou shalt not be able to juggle cutlery whilst whistling Bon Jovi._

“No,” Dean continued. “We do not bring up that fact. AC/DC is perfect. Was, is, and forever will be. Amen.” And, as if for emphasis, he slammed his beer down onto the greasy tabletop.

Cas rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “Queen gave us ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. And Freddie Mercury. And the Red Special. Give me some of those onion rings.” Dean pushed the basket towards him.

“Our first date and we’re already fighting.” He remarked, reaching over and taking one too. “This is the start to a very unhealthy relationship.”

“Not really fighting if one side is clearly winning,” Cas pointed out.

Dean flashed him another one of his smiles. _Seriously, did he practice those in the mirror or something? ‘Nice to meet you, I’m the 21st-century James Dean, I also happen to be called Dean, can I have your number?’ Jesus. _“I’m glad you’re conceding defeat.”

Cas chucked a fry at his head. “Fuck you.”

Dean let out a large gasp. “On the _first date_? We haven’t even kissed yet.”

_Oh_.

He felt his cheeks flaming. “I’m not – what are you…_no_.”

Dean stopped in the middle of a bite. The joking glimmer in his eyes was immediately replaced by a concerned stare. “Hey. Hey, you alright?” He looked straight into his eyes. There were flecks of gold in there, he’d never noticed that before, and fuck this was really the _last _thing he needed right now.

“Yeah.” He heard himself say it, as if from far off. There was something blocking his ears, like he was underwater. Suddenly, the crappy yellow light from above, reflecting off the metal table-top, seemed too bright, too harsh. It hurt his eyes, and his chest was hurting for no apparent reason, and he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t _think_, and Jesus fucking Christ not right now.

Cas struggled to keep his heartbeat under control. _Deep breaths. Come on. In and out. In and out. Count to ten._

“Yeah,” he repeated, breathing slow. “I’m okay.”

_In and out. In and out. Slow, slow. Don’t rush. Don’t think. Just breathe_.

“No. No, you’re not.” He was still staring at him, with his stupid green-and-gold eyes and his stupid concern and his stupid _goodwill_. Cas didn’t dare look up at him; he stared down at his half-eaten burger and fries. It was the safer option. He didn’t want to see his expression. He knew what would be there.

“Look, man,” – his voice was melted butter and fuck, not now, literally this was _the last thing he needed _– “I’m sorry. I came on a little strong there, I know, but I won’t do anything, if you don’t want to. Fuck, I’m not that kind of guy.”

_Jesus._

Cas chanced a glimpse at him, and – yup, still with the intense stare. But…missing something. He didn’t quite know what.

“No.” He said. Quietly. The light was still too bright. He was still listening from underwater. “No, it’s not that, I know you’re not – I mean…I don’t really do the whole, um…_physical _thing.”

Dean nodded. Cas felt the sudden need to explain. Having this sex god opposite him think he wasn’t down for it, _ever_, was quite possibly the worst thing he could do. “I mean…I did. I _do. _But like…not yet. You know?”

Dean stared. _Okay he definitely thinks you’re out of your mind._

“I just – look, something happened.” Was he really going to delve into his mountain of relationship issues on his _first date_? In the middle of a _panic attack_? “And it wasn’t cool, and it sort of stopped me from doing anything for a while. But uh…yeah. I’m dealing.”

He watched as Dean slowly put the puzzle pieces together, watched as his eyes slowly widened. He closed his eyes. This was the part he hated – the “are you okay” part. Everybody always asked that: _are you okay, what can I do to help, I am so sorry, I’m always here for you_. It was always about them. They never got that he was fine, he just wanted them to leave him alone.

“Okay.”

He opened his eyes. He could hear a bit better now. The light wasn’t all that bad now. And Dean…Dean was chewing on an onion ring. All nonchalant, like they had just been talking about the weather.

“Just…just okay?”

Dean looked at him straight-on. There was something different about his gaze. Less…less _Dean_. Less playful, less mischievous. His gaze was serious. Deep. Cas felt like he was being X-rayed, but somehow, he couldn’t look away. “You don’t want to talk about it. So, we don’t talk about it.”

He went back to his onion rings. “Now,” he said, dipping one into ketchup, “we were discussing your crappy taste in music.”

Cas felt the beginnings of a smile form. It was stupid. He didn’t even _know _this guy opposite him, not really. He only knew his name – _Dean Balthazar_– which sounded like something out of a comic-book, and that he had a serious hard-on for what could only be termed “mullet rock”. And he was also the only person who didn’t treat him like damaged goods. Who didn’t treat him like he needed his hand held. Dean treated him like he was still…_him_.

_Fuck. _He gave up. Cas slowly, tentatively let his smile blossom into a full-blown grin. And Dean – bad-boy, probably-hits-on-every-breathing-person, is-a-bad-idea Dean, immediately returned it with another one of those deep, true, _real _smiles…and that was enough to ignore the warning sirens blaring in his head.

“I reiterate, fuck you. My music taste is excellent,” Cas said. He stole another one of his onion rings.

* * *

“Look, all I’m saying is John Green is massively overrated,” Dean said as he held the door open for him.

“And I respect that,” Cas said, stepping out. “Thanks. But,” he continued, “_Looking for Alaska _is still a good book.”

Dean let the door swing shut, led the way to the bus station. “Alaska is a whiny little bitch and Pudge is an idiot who thinks with his dick. The Colonel is the only cool character.”

“Of course you’d think the prankster is the cool character.”

“I appreciate my brethren. Even if they’re beginners.”

Cas laughed, his breath quickly forming into wisp in the cold night air. He walked a bit quicker, snow swirling in his wake. “I think the main thing to take away from this is that you read John Green books.”

“I gave in to societal pressure.” Dean admitted, matching his pace. “Plus, always good to keep up with what the teens are doing. Got to be…what’s the word – _hip_,” – Cas snorted, Dean flipped him the bird before shoving his hand back into his pocket – “It helps you get along with them. Even if it rots your brain.”

“Get a lot of kids your way?”

He shook his head. “Not really – _fuck me _it’s freezing. No, mostly it’s just a couple of stupid drunk teens who bashed their car in while they were making out or something.”

“Yikes.”

“Yup. But still, it’s a payday. I’m not complaining.”

“Still – must be a pretty bad crash, if you had to get involved.”

Dean laughed. “The rich kids come in for every little thing, even a little scratch on their paint job. Doesn’t matter if Daddy’s footing the bill, right?”

_Wait. __Paint job? _Cas stopped dead in his tracks. “Hang on. What do you do?”

Dean stopped too. Cas ignored the fact that they were in the middle of a dark alley, probably where 90% of muggings and other illegal activities occurred in Lawrence, Kansas, right next to some rubbish bins giving off some seriously questionable smells. Dean didn’t seem to mind.

“Never told you, did I,” he continued. “I’m a mechanic. I work at the garage downtown. Family business, and all that.”

Cas stared. _Gabriel said Balthazar worked in physio._

“So…you’re not a physiotherapist?”

It was Dean’s turn to stare. “What? _No. _What the fuck gave you that idea?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because my brother – who set up this date, by the way – _said you worked in physio_?”

“What? Who’s your brother?”

“Gabriel.” Cas swore to God, if this was some lame prank Gabriel thought to pull, then he would kill him. Gabe liked his jokes, showed affection by pranking – and he was being nice by using the term “pranking”; “sanctioned torture” was a more accurate description – but he usually knew not to cross the line. Gabe knew what had happened. He wouldn’t do…_this_. But he’d been known to go too far sometimes.

“No idea who Gabriel is.”

_What the fuck was happening?_

Dean looked like he was thinking along the same lines. He was blinking very fast. “Wait.” He held up his hands. “_Wait. _You’re not Kevin?”

Cas stared. “I _told _you my name was Castiel.”

“I thought that was, like, your _nickname_. Who the fuck is called Castiel?”

Cas frowned. “Okay, first off, fuck you. Second, I didn’t choose to be called this, okay? My parents were really religious. And hippies. Religious hippies.”

“Jesus,” Dean exhaled. He slumped back against the alleyway wall. Normally, Cas would have a freak-out over just how dirty that was…but right now, his brain was a bit busy tackling the small problem of _he just went out on a date with somebody who was not supposed to be his date, and he was like 78% sure he was falling for him. And his own date – Balthazar – was probably back at Crappy Coffeehouse Central._

“I’m lucky I’m not called that,” Cas joked. It was a terrible attempt at normalcy. It really wasn’t the time or place. But despite the massive mind-fuckery going on, Dean had the decency to laugh. “Yeah?” He peeled himself off the wall. He was smiling again_. Would no situation stop this man from smiling? Were his lips permanently plastered in an upturned position? _“Isn’t your brother called…Gabriel? Why did they saddle you with Castiel? Couldn’t have gone with – I don’t know, Michael or something?”

“I _have _a brother called Michael.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Also a total douche. Runs in the family.”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t think you’re a douche.”

“I stole you from your date.” He pointed out. “Who, for all we know, might still be at the coffee house.”

“Well yeah, you did, but not…_intentionally_.” He shrugged again. It was way more of a production than it should have been: his entire body went a bit slacker, like he managed to lean against thin air. Trust him to make _shrugging _look sexy. “And don’t you have a date too?”

“Yeah. Possibly _also _at the coffeehouse.”

He started sniggering. “Think they went out with each other too?”

“They’re not as dumb as us.”

Dean fake gasped. “_Excuse _you. I am not dumb. I just got kidnapped by a gorgeous guy in a trench coat and a tie and couldn’t make it.”

_Fuck he called me gorgeous._

“Trench coat? You make me sound like a flasher or something.”

Dean sniggered. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I’m a poor damsel-in-distress. My date will have to save me from this Burberry trench coat-wearing, blue-eyed villain.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “This nameless villain sounds terrifying. Almost like a comic-book villain. Which, of course, you don’t read.”

“I repeat. That is my story and I’m sticking to it.” Dean brushed himself off. “No but hey. What _is _your name, then? Full name. Before I go around brainwashing myself into thinking you’re _Kevin_.”

“Castiel. Castiel Novak.”

Dean looked at him again, and it was one of those looks – heavy, soulful, and Jesus, Cas was a goner, the fact that this wasn’t his date be _damned_. Then he stuck out his hand. “Hello, Castiel Novak. I’m Dean Winchester.”

It was stupid. It was borderline insane. The right thing to do would be to respectfully nod. Salvage whatever pride he still had left.

He shook his hand.

Dean grinned. And Cas couldn’t stop himself from grinning back.

_Okay no. Stop. Stop it before you get yourself hurt. Or you do something stupid. Or both._

Cas stepped back, leaving a good chunk of room between them. Dean looked at him questioningly. “We should probably call our dates. Or our brothers.”

Dean lingered. He was still looking at him. He wasn’t making this easy. “Yeah. Yeah that’s a good idea.”

Silence. Heavy silence. Cas tried to breathe.

Then.

“Do you want to call them after we get dessert?”

Cas exhaled. “_Fuck _yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to quickly thank @quicksilverdeancas on AO3 here. He started the writing challenge that pushed me to start writing again, and as a result, made me rediscover why I fell in love with writing in the first place. He also very kindly beta-ed for me, taught me how to use Discord (seriously, I'm a grandma when it comes to technology) and is just an all-around lovely person. Go read his works if you haven't; he's such a brilliant writer and he deserves more love!
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is always welcome. I hope you liked the fic, and let me know if I should do any more.


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